This afternoon, I submitted Bob's draft 504 plan to the school counselor (who serves as their IEP/special ed coordinator). Now, I suppose we sit back and see what comes next.

As I continue writing Bob's 504 Plan (previously blogged here and here), I am amazed at how much of it seems to be common sense. Does a child really need "frequent restroom breaks" put into writing in order to use the restroom? (Being a substitute teacher, I've learned most kids won't go to the restroom every 20 minutes unless they're bored, need a break, or have a real physical need.) Sadly, it seems much "common sense" in education (indeed, all matters concerning children) has become anything but . Case in point: the accommodation in Bob's plan that created such a buzz--his notebook.

Like an errant child avoiding homework, I've been putting off something important for almost a week: writing Bob's 504 Plan. Wait--isn't someone affiliated with the school district supposed to do that? One would think.

I'd like to take this opportunity to be the 93,347th person to say "I'm so glad the holidays are over." Because I am. For a multitude of reasons.

Yesterday, I met with the "team" to discuss an IEP for Bob (my 4th-grade son, diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD). Apparently, the team has met before--without yours, truly--as I discovered a couple of weeks ago when I emailed the principal asking whether we were going to meet before or after Bob's teacher returns from maternity leave. The return email I received from the school psychologist indicated no meeting had ever been held, but Bob's ineligibility for services via IEP had already been determined and we could meet to discuss a 504 plan.

December is, and always has been, a difficult month for Bob. It's tough for him to wake up in the morning, and hard for him to get to sleep at night. He "thinks too much" (in his words), and often finds himself getting sad and teary-eyed. And his schoolwork? Don't even ask. I've known Bob's mood takes a downturn in late Fall for a few years now. This year, it appearshe recognizes this aspect of his bipolar disorder diagnosis, as well.

Is my son, Bob (who has bipolar disorder), experiencing "psychotic depression?"

It's Sunday night. One child is in bed; the other is doing his nightly reading. Tomorrow, everyone goes back to work and school. The long Thanksgiving family-fest weekend is over. We survived.

I was almost looking forward to Thanksgiving this year. We had a pretty uneventful holiday planned--Bob would be at his father's house until Saturday evening, and my large, loud extended family had opted for a smaller gathering on Saturday (just my parents, siblings, and assorted nieces). Until Bob caught wind of this plan, and asked to come home early so he could go to his grandparents' house with us. And then I discovered it was not to be an intimate gathering (or as "intimate" as it gets with four siblings, their spouses, and 7 grandchildren); it would be the whole family--aunts, uncles, ad nauseum--totalling 28 people.

When your child has a psychiatric illness, your plate fills rather quickly--psychiatrist appointments, therapist appointments, IEP meetings, trips to the pharmacy and the never-ending juggling of prescription medications. But there are other things crowding the china--things like medication side effects--we may have no idea how to handle, even if we feel we've "mastered" all there is to know about our child's diagnosis. Children with mental illness experience myriad side effects that create even more problems for them and their parents; one in particular has hit us the hardest. In our house, the most persistent medication side effect is bedwetting. And it's driving us all crazy.